


Watermelon Milkshakes

by subtropicalStenella



Series: SWR: PTAU [14]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Cravings, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Movie Night, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 21:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14985737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtropicalStenella/pseuds/subtropicalStenella
Summary: Pregnancy cravings and movie night





	Watermelon Milkshakes

There are some (stupid) people who might say that Caleb has it “easy” or has “lucked out” because, due to the nature of his disability, he is never forced to be the Hapless Sitcom Dad In The Grocery Store At An Ungodly Hour Because His Pregnant Wife Needs (Obscure Thing)  _ Now. _

Those people are wrong, and dumb, because I have no doubt Caleb would have loved to do that, may even have looked forward to it at some point in his life if he and Hera had ever considered having a baby on purpose.

 

Sometimes, though? I agree with them. 

 

Times like:

“It's 1a on my first night off from kitten duty at the shelter in three days and Caleb is throwing Hera’s truck keys at my head with  _ seriously unnerving accuracy,  _ saying 'Up and at 'em, kiddo. Burger run.’”

Y’know, like, now. On the one hand, at least Hera doesn't get cravings for anything  _ too  _ weird, but the baby's sleep schedule is apparently governed by fucking Venus or something, so it's 1a and if she doesn't get a bacon cheeseburger with grilled onions and a watermelon milkshake, someone's going to die.

Thank fuck for Cookout is all I'm saying. I was kinda surprised to find one this far north but I'll take it and my chicken quesadillas. Yes the burger joint serves quesadillas until 3a, don't question it. Or the existence of _watermelon_ _milkshakes_. I don't.

 

By the time I get back home with burgers, everyone has migrated downstairs. Caleb is sitting on the floor in front of Hera with his back against the couch and her legs slung over his shoulders so he can rub her feet. He likes to rest his head on her beach ball belly and thinks it's hilarious when the baby kicks him, even if it's weird as hell to watch Hera's belly move. Sabine has taken over the rest of the couch with her head on Hera’s thigh, sleepily watching… whatever they were watching through her eyelids. 

 

“What’re we watching?”

_ “'Hitman’s Bodyguard,’”  _ Hera says, and makes grabby hands at the styrofoam burger boxes. “Gimme.”

“Ryan Reynolds is a goddamn gift to this world,” Caleb adds, and tilts his head back so Hera can feed him fries. 

“He's gone all salt’n’peppery too,” she tells him smugly. 

 

Caleb makes an appreciative  _ unf _ noise that I choose to interpret as commentary on the fries. I shove Chopper sideways until I can sit next to Caleb, in front of Sabine. Predictably, Sabine's hand flops onto my head to scritch lazily through the fresh buzz cut she gave me this morning. Hera pops the lid off her milkshake and dunks a couple fries in, because she's a  _ monster.  _

 

“You can have him, I get dibs on Salma Hayek,” Hera continues, and Caleb pauses in cracking her toes (ew) long enough to bring a scandalized hand to his chest, clearly utterly, comically crushed, because how could she  _ do _ that to him, her poor blind husband, but I cut him off, because I have limits.

“This is a hypothetical universe where you have a chance with Ryan Reynolds. Obviously you're not blind there.”

“See, this is why you're my favorite.”

 

Chopper shoves himself under my knees and puts his chin on Caleb's, begging for chicken nuggets, and I lean sideways into Hera’s leg and Caleb's shoulder.

 

“Gina Carano,” Sabine mumbles sleepily, and Hera pats her head fondly.

“That’s  _ Deadpool, _ honey.”

 

... Okay maybe it's not so bad.


End file.
